For all our hopes this new year would be better than the previous 12 months, the first 27 days of 2021 are disappointing.
Such an understatement, right?
I texted with a good friend several days ago. Normal “how’s it going” stuff. And then a little while later these words appeared on my phone screen: got some really bad news.
A family friend – a teenager – died unexpectedly.
My friend: We r all shocked. Puffy eyed and stunned.
Me: Heart-wrecked.
So many of us are heart-wrecked these days. Continuing bad news, both in the headlines and in our homes, demolishes our emotions and leaves us stranded.
Grieving.
Fearful.
Incapable of moving ahead.
We need to be rescued.
Longing for rescue or longing to provide someone we love with rescue doesn’t mean we don’t allow ourselves time to mourn.
Rushing past our grief dishonors our loss. Ignoring someone else’s grief dishonors their loss, too.
Grief scares us because it overwhelms us like a wave that pulls us under, holds us down while we frantically swim for the surface, our lungs aching for air.
We want someone to save us – throw us the life preserver of “normal” and tow us to shore so our feet can touch ground again.
Maybe the first step of survival when we’re drowning in grief is to let go of our desire for normal.
Normal was then.
Grief is our now.
Yes, it’s our unwanted now. We want to turn our back on it. But the only way to our future where our hearts are no longer wrecked is through now.
The experts tell you everyone processes grief differently – in different ways and at different paces. I’m not referring to the professionals – although they say this, too. I mean the friends and family you know who’ve walked this unwanted path ahead of you.
We can also pray for a miraculous, fresh breeze of hope to sustain us, to help our grieving friends. Hope fills our emotional sails and reminds us moving ahead is possible. When grief leaves us at a standstill for weeks and months at a time and we are unable to pray, we can lean into the prayers of others. We can also remember Jesus always intercedes for us. (Romans 8:34)
Hope eases the burden of grief, allowing us to learn how to bear sorrow’s unwanted weight.
Maybe one way we help bear one another’s burdens is praying for whispers of hope for our grief-stricken friends. We keep our eyes on the horizon for them when their vision is blurred by tears.
Choosing to Wait for Hope When Grief Wrecks Our Heart https://bit.ly/3om2E2i #grief #hope Click To Tweet 'Life's roughest storms prove the strength of our anchors.' Quote by Unknown https://bit.ly/3om2E2i #perspective #hope Click To Tweet
Comments 18
THANK YOU Beth. ❤️ The road is long and sometimes filled with pot holes but there are smooth spots too. It’s those smooth spots that we can rest in for a few moments.
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Sandy: I know you understand the balance of grief and hope as few others can. And you’ve chosen to lean into your faith even when it’s felt shattered. Love you, my friend.
Wow, sad and very hard. Sometimes “wrecked” is the only possible word. I think of Peter who was going under, floundering. He did the only possible winning thing, “Lord, call me that I may come to Thee.” Then, and only then, we can.
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Dee: More and more I am reminded that Jesus told us we would have trouble in this world — but He also promised us peace. Sometimes the troubles seem to outweigh the promised peace. It’s then we need others to pray for us — and sometimes we’re so overcome we can’t even ask for help. Hope is always out there — sometimes we lose sight of it. But it’s there.
Why the sad slow chatter,
and why the puffy eyes?
Death really doesn’t matter,
’cause everybody dies.
Why now all this mourning
for he who has been killed?
By the time new day’s a-borning,
the empty space is filled.
Just go and rifle through his stuff,
footlocker and sea-chest,
and when you have found loot enough,
deep-six all the rest.
I fancy I’ve grown hard and cool,
but the mirror now reflects a fool.
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Andrew: I don’t quite understand the words in your sonnet today, my friend. But I know your words reflect your experiences … and I also know you grieve lost comrades. So I also know you do not deny anyone else grieving the loss of a loved one. Praying for you friend.
Beth, what I meant to say was that developing a hard shell was, in the end, really, really stupid, because it cuts off one’s vital humanity.
No disrespect to anyone’s grief was intended; just the opposite, actually. I wanted the last line to be an admission that I had been in the wrong all the way through. I should have strengthened that point.
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Andrew: I know your heart is to always be compassionate my friend.
Such a perfect description- “heart wrecked”. We understand there is and will be hope, but feeling wrecked is unavoidable. Heavy so that hope will shine through and lift us soon. 💕But right now, heavy.
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Starry: Scripture reminds us that we don’t grieve without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13) — and I cling to that truth. But I never want to ignore someone’s grief — on days when I feel as if there is nothing I can do, I can always pray.
Amen, Beth. Yes. Agreed!
Beth, this is such a beautiful, gentle post. Losing a loved one at the beginning of a new year colors the rest of the days of that year. I am so sorry for your friend’s loss of their teen. I can’t imagine. Thanks for the reminder to pray for whispers of hope for those I know who are deeply grieving right now.
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Thank you, friend. Grief colors our days, but oh how I pray for hope to cast light, too.
Sitting in a puddle over this one. My heart’s been in different stages of wrecked for a while now, and will be facing some tough “anniversaries” soon. So, I’m praying keenly for those who are aching over the loss of this precious child. I can’t fathom the pain.
Your words resonated richly… gently. Hope offered – not tritely – but from hands and a heart that have walked this path. “…whispers of hope…” How beautiful. How needed.
Lord, breathe hope upon this family. Upon us all.
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Bernadette: I know you understand this. I know you’ve walked this road … experienced this heart wreck. And never once stopped reaching for hope. Anniversaries are so difficult. Praying for you, dear friend.
Condolences on the loss of your young friend.
My friend’s husband died unexpectedly on 12/31. Prayer is all I have to offer.
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Denise: Prayer is powerful. And listening. Being there … no need to say the “right thing.” Just be with your friend.
I am so, so sorry.
Thank you.